Awfully Invisible
by 0xyg3n
Summary: 50 years ago, Amelia Jones died in her house. Ivan Braginsky moves in and discovers that he can see her ghost. Warnings and pairing summary inside!
1. chapter 1

A/N- Hey guys!!! Please read the A/N, i'm putting warnings and such here!

 **-Trigger warning for mentions of past domestic violence** **-Trigger warning for violence/blood/gore** **-Trigger warning for homophobia and a generally bad family**

There may be more trigger warnings added as I write more, these are the ones i can currently think of based on how this fic is gonna go! This fic really only will have RoChu as a ship, I've been desperately wanting to write something with platonic Russia and Nyo! America, and I'll probably write something else another time with them as a pairing. Please favorite, follow, and review, and definitely enjoy!

Prologue

Amelia Jones had spent very little of her short life thinking about death. Why should she? Living was much more interesting, and she wanted to make the most out of it. She'd been alive long before 'YOLO' was a word, much less a concept, but somehow, that was still the principle by which she lived.

When she thought about death, Amelia usually thought about dying in some sort of heroic way, like burning to death after saving children from a building that was on fire or jumping in front of someone when they were about to get shot and taking the bullet for them. When she looked at death realistically, Amelia figured that she'd get really old and just pass peacefully with family by her side. It had never occurred to her that her death would be anything but heroic and peaceful.

Amelia had been killed by her fiance. There was no use sugarcoating it. Even fifty-something years later, she still remembered almost every single detail. Her fiance, Arthur, had been drunk. That was a regular occurrence for him; he would have a little gin, a little beer, a little whiskey. Then a little would turn into a lot and he'd lose control. Amelia hadn't known that Arthur was a violent alcoholic until she had moved in with him. Even then, after being his punching bag during his drunken rages, Amelia stayed. It wasn't even love that kept her there, it was a need for companionship and dependency on Arthur's financial support. If she left him, she would have to move back with her brother and take up one of those awful factory jobs. So Amelia stayed, and hid those private details of her relationship.

Usually, Arthur would pass out before he could really hurt Amelia. The worst he'd done was give her a few bad bruises and a large cut on her hand, but that could all be covered up and explained away. And then, one day, Arthur did something worse. This was where Amelia's memory got slightly foggy. She knew the facts, though, from when the police had come to recover her body and arrest Arthur. He'd grabbed a kitchen knife and stabbed her thirteen times, then left her for dead. It wasn't until he'd woken up the next day and found Amelia's lifeless body that he realized what he'd done.

Since the date of her death: August 21st, 1956, Amelia's spirit had been stuck in the house. Her soul was restless and didn't belong in heaven or hell, so she had been left as a ghost in an awful excuse for purgatory. Amelia would have been fine with being a ghost if it didn't get so lonely. There never seemed to be anyone in the house, and when someone did move in, it was never for long. They always seemed to leave when Amelia tried to make herself known, claiming that things were thrown at them by nothing and they would randomly feel bursts of unearthly chill.

It hadn't taken long for Amelia to realize that no one could see her. She could interact with solid objects and make noises that people could hear, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make people see her. After three decades or so, Amelia gave up on trying to get people to see her. She figured she would just have to spend eternity alone. But then, Ivan came along.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N-** phew! I wrote this whole chapter over the span of a few hours, and had plenty of laughs doing so. Please remember to favorite, follow, and review, and above all, enjoy reading!

 **1**

The house on the corner of 14th street and Washington Avenue had been excessively cheap. It was so cheap, in fact, that Ivan's mortgage would be paid off in only ten years. He knew why he'd paid so little, of course. Everyone had cautioned him that the house was haunted. Apparently, fifty years or so ago, a young woman had been murdered in the house, and her spirit tried to drive out anyone who dared trespass on her property. Ivan didn't mind this, though. He was a young college student and something being supposedly haunted was a small price to pay for a nice house that was quite cheap.

Coming straight from the dorm, Ivan had very few belongings to move into the house. The biggest thing he owned was his mattress, which just went on the floor of his bedroom with a blanket and pillow, and the rest of his things fit in four cardboard boxes. It was when he was bringing the last box in that he saw it- a young woman floating about 3 feet in the air, peeking at him from behind a wall. The minute their eyes met, Ivan dropped the box in surprise. It made a sound like glass breaking and before he knew it, the woman was gone.

Ivan shook his head and brushed hair out of his face. He had probably conjured that woman up in his mind. Yes, that made sense. He'd been so convinced that the house was haunted, because everyone had told him so, that he had started hallucinating. Ivan would have laughed at himself for that, if it weren't for the more pressing issue of whatever had broken in the box. He knelt down and opened it, pushing away layers of bubble wrap.

"Shit!" he exclaimed. His favorite pictures, the ones he'd meticulously framed, had all been in that box. The frames of a few of them had just cracked a little, while others had the glass shattered to pieces. One of the pictures, a field of sunflowers, had been destroyed. At least his camera was alright, that was what really mattered. Frowning, Ivan picked the box back up and carried it up to his bedroom. He would re-frame the pictures later, after he'd gotten his belongings unpacked.

One of the boxes was filled with clothes, a heavy winter coat taking up most of the space, and he started folding them and setting them on the floor of the closet. Ivan would have to invest in some hangers, though that would come later after he'd gotten essentials like furniture and actual bedsheets. He lacked plenty of things, as his college had provided beds and a desk for him, as well as a dresser for all his clothing, and he would have to figure out what he needed and how to get it as cheaply as possible. Ivan would rather have the money to buy food than some fancy couch or piece of furniture.

He hummed as he worked, setting up his TV and hanging up the surviving pictures around his room. They were all his own photography, a few of which had won awards. Ivan prided himself on his work, especially when it had to do with photography, journalism, or gardening: his three favorite pastimes.

Amelia floated into the room at some point while Ivan's back was turned, but she moved to hide in the closet and peek out a small crack. She had a feeling, from their previous interaction, that Ivan had somehow sensed her presence. Or maybe, just maybe, he had seen her. The thought filled her heart with hope, but she forced herself to remember other instances where she thought people had seen her, when in reality, they had been looking right through her. She couldn't get too excited yet.

"Fucking commie," she whispered to herself, watching Ivan hang a Russian flag. Amelia had only seen little bits of the news on television and read very few newspapers, so she still thought America was in the cold war, and had a certain distaste for Russians. The young woman chewed her pinky nail as she watched Ivan put up more pictures. The photography was excellent, and she had never seen such clear color images, but they did little to offset the horrible flag. Later, she promised herself that she would tear it down and destroy it. Amelia had no choice as to who lived in her house, but she'd be damned if she had to live with a communist.

That settled it. She had to get rid of Ivan.

Amelia was subtle at first. Ivan left the room to have dinner and she tore down the Russian flag, leaving it in a crumpled pile on the floor. She resumed her place in the closet, watching to see what he would do when he returned. To her dismay, Ivan simply picked up the flag and put it up on the wall again. He just thought that it had fallen because he hadn't secured it to the wall well enough. This time, he was extremely careful with placing the flag on its hooks and he smoothed it out proudly. Even more infuriating to Amelia was the fact that Ivan did not leave his room for the rest of the day. He just brushed his teeth in the bare bathroom and sat down to play some video games before going to bed.

Amelia had no reason or need to sleep, so she stayed up and watched Ivan until she was sure he was asleep, before taking the flag off the wall again. She rummaged through the boxes as quietly as possible, looking for a marker. There wasn't one to be found, so she instead grabbed a pen and worked painstakingly to scribble on the white part of the flag: fuck communism. When she was done, Amelia threw the flag onto Ivan's bed, so he would get a nasty surprise when he awoke.

She spent the rest of the night in the closet. If she closed her eyes and tried not to think of anything, Amelia could feel almost like she was sleeping, but the key word was almost. She couldn't actually lose consciousness or dream, and she perked up the minute she heard the bed creak. Ivan took a few minutes to see the flag. It turned out he was blind as a bat without his contacts, and he had to search around for them and put them in before he was in any way functional. The wait was worth it, though, because when Ivan saw Amelia's message on the flag, he clenched it in his fist and glared daggers. She had to admit that he was quite terrifying like that, but her fear did nothing to cloud the proud sense of accomplishment she carried.

When Ivan left that day, Amelia felt as though she'd done her job. What she didn't know was that after class, he had gone to a store and bought the largest Russian flag he could find. Ivan was not one to give up easily, nor was he one to let someone else subdue or take advantage of him. He marched inside and tacked the flag up where the other one had been, then placed something on the floor below the flag.

Amelia didn't dare to investigate until she was sure Ivan had left the room to eat his dinner in the kitchen. Cautiously, she stepped out of the closet and floated over to the flag. Now, she had a better look at what Ivan had left below it. It was a book, the title obscured by a sticky note. Amelia read the note first, angrily whispering the words. "To whom it may concern: Please enjoy this book. Have a good day, and go fuck yourself," Amelia frowned and peeled off the sticky note. She crumpled it and threw it to the side. When she read the title of the book, Amelia nearly screamed with anger. He had given her The Communist Manifesto.

This was it. She couldn't take it anymore. Amelia tore the pages from the book and threw it in a pile on the bed, then ripped the flag off the wall, gleefully watching the metal rings rip through the fabric with the force of her tugging. After that, she found the pad of Ivan's sticky notes and wrote two words on it in her scribbly handwriting: Animal Farm.

When Ivan came back up the stairs, he was greeted by the scene of destruction Amelia had left for him. Now, he was certain that he was not alone in the house. His mind flitted back to the floating woman he had seen the day before. Everyone had said the house was haunted. Maybe they were being more than oddly superstitious and paranoid, and there was some truth to their words. Ivan had to be sure, though. He decided that he would just have to catch whatever was bothering him in the act.

Humming cheerfully, Ivan picked up the flag again and hung it neatly as it had been before. With a strangely calm demeanor, he taped his book back together and set it beneath the flag, then drew a stick figure wearing a Russian flag with a hammer and sickle on it flipping off a stick figure dressed in an American flag. He left the drawing taped above the flag and exited the room. This time, though, he pressed his back against the wall and leaned as close to the doorway as he could without being seen.

Ivan wasn't actually obsessed with communism or anything of the like. In fact, the only reason he had The Communist Manifesto was for a class he'd had to take. Yes, he did dislike capitalism in some cases, but that was mostly borne out of unhappiness about how little money he had. Ivan worked alongside going to school, and had barely made a dent in paying off his student loans, so he felt that he had a right to be mad.

When Ivan heard the sound of tape peeling off the wall, he turned and walked into the room. The first thing he saw was a young woman, scared shitless and frozen in place a few inches off the ground. She was nearly transparent, and had shoulder-length blonde hair, crystal blue eyes, and was wearing a short dress covered in bloodstains.

"So you are the capitalist pig who has been disturbing me. It is so nice to finally meet you," Ivan grinned sadistically. All Amelia could do was open her mouth in shock and make panicked squeaks. That was not at all what she had expected.


End file.
